Numb
by super em
Summary: They don’t realize how much they need each other, but they do. A tough case leaves Tony questioning everything he knows and trusts. Now complete. Please R&R.
1. Part One

**Numb**

Author: super em  
Rating: K+  
Categories: Gen, angst, hurt/comfort, friendship  
Disclaimer: NCIS does not belong to me. Unfortunately.

_A/N: This turned out a lot angstier than I originally intended. It's mostly just an experiment with tense and emotion and stuff... turned into a 3-part story. Hope you enjoy, reviews are greatly appreciated :)_

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McGee calls him at the hospital, spluttering and stuttering and sounding more like a probie than ever. His message is short but it's enough to carve an empty hole in Tony, leaving him feeling number than the pain killers ever could. It was a clean shot, through-and-through. Not serious enough to require surgery or physiotherapy, but bad enough to earn him a bed for the night, morphine and an IV full of antibiotics. 

He closes the phone with a click abruptly, leaving McGee with another example to add to his 'How Tony is Turning Into Gibbs' list. He glares at the needle digging into the skin of his hand, wishing he could just rip it out. He doesn't want pain relief. Doesn't need it. Doesn't deserve it.

They were too late. She's with Ducky now. And it's all his fault.

They won't let him leave, no matter how much he argues and annoys the nurses. Gibbs could bail him out, but he won't. He's busy with Ziva and McGee in the field, catching the guy who kidnapped and murdered an innocent eight-year-old. The guy he let slip away, back when they had him cornered. They guy who shot him, slipped away and killed a little girl.

It's his fault. He could have stopped the man. Could've shot first, immobilized the man and cuffed him all within a few seconds. Instead he paused; waited for his backup. And he ended up in hospital while the guy was still in the wind.

The nurses come and go and he lies there, staring up at the off-white ceiling. He wonders if it'd be better to go back to work and face Gibbs' wrath for the rest of his life, or to just cut his losses and move on. It won't be the first time he has. Several of the nurses are attractive and a few of the younger ones even try to flirt with him, but for the first time in his life, he has no interest.

The door opens once again and he can tell without looking that it's not one of the nurses in their clean, white, sensible shoes, or his doctor with the squeaky black lace-ups. The weight on the bed shifts and Abby sits down, dropping an oversized black handbag onto the chair next to the bed. She speaks to him, but nothing registers. He doesn't want to know about the case, about how Gibbs and co have a lead, but nothing concrete, about how she's still waiting for trace results from Major Mass Spec. He knows he has failed and, for the moment, that is all that matters.

A pause ensues. Then Abby speaks again. One word.

Tony.

Reluctantly, and for the first time in the half-hour she's been there, he meets her gaze. She is momentarily stunned, shocked, startled, whatever, by the pain and anguish she sees in his eyes. She feels his sadness bleed into her and soon she knows that her eyes reflect his.

Abby leans forward, cupping his face with her pale, warm hands. He tries but cannot look away from those sharp green eyes.

"It wasn't your fault." She tells him, wishing Gibbs was with her so Tony would stop looking like the puppy dog left out in the rain. He doesn't respond; his face remains emotionless and blank. She kisses him in the middle of forehead, clicks the button on the morphine drip and picks up her bag. The mass spectrometer beckons.

He doesn't look up as she leaves.

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What he really needs, Abby muses as she watches Tony sign discharge papers haphazardly with his left hand the next day, is a good head slap from Gibbs. She wants her old Tony back, her joking, charming, smiling Tony. New Tony is a whole different person; subdued and sullen and miserable without a hint of a smile on his face. She snatches the freshly written prescriptions from his hand before he has a chance to scrunch them up, wraps her hand around his good arm and walks him out of the building.

They stop at the hospital pharmacy and she's secretly delighted when he protests, arguing that he doesn't need more pain medication or the antibiotics. She shakes her head and hands the paper to the man at the counter, hiding the grin blossoming on her face. It's the first sign of life she's seen in him all day.

Gibbs calls while they're on the road, her hearse swerving a little into the next lane as she fumbles in her handbag for the phone. The bossman wants results pronto, so she pulls to the side of the road and grabs her laptop from the backseat. She relays the scientific jargon, knowing McGee's listening to her on speaker on the other end of the line. He's perfectly capable of translating and Abby's never one to miss an opportunity to annoy Gibbs.

She tries to remain professional when he asks about Tony.

"Okay," she says, not wanting to disturb Tony. There's so much more she could say if he wasn't in the car. Gibbs responds by hanging up, but she knows he understands. She'll call him back as soon as she gets her passenger home and taken care of. Although that might take a while.

She leaves Tony on the couch with the television on, his right arm tightly strapped to his chest to keep him from damaging it further. He looks young and tired and alone and she doesn't want to leave him again, but she must. Bad guys to catch and justice to be served. Et cetera and so forth.

This time he just smiles sadly at her as she slips out the front door.

TBC


	2. Part Two

Three days pass before they catch the guy. McGee and Ziva are wrecked, they've been out in the field the whole time, getting next to no sleep in cheap, dirty motels along the way. Gibbs was unbearable the whole time, spurned on by the desire to catch the bastard who not only kidnapped and murdered a little girl but also tried to kill his best agent. Without Tony in action to take the brunt of Gibbs' moods, Ziva and McGee suffer his wrath. Reports can wait; once they catch their man boarding a plane to Chicago and bring him back to DC, they get the hell out of the office, heading straight to their respective homes for the relief of hot showers and un-lumpy beds and no Gibbs to invade their personal space and yell at them.

For his part, Gibbs becomes normal again (or normal enough by his standards) once their guy is glowering in the local lock-up. He heads down to see his favourite scientist, although he has an ulterior motive.

Abby grins up at him from her desk as he turns the heavy metal down, wincing at the assault on his eardrums. She hugs him and he asks about Tony. Abby explains that both she and Ducky have been buried in work from both his and other NCIS teams. She hasn't been able to visit him since he was discharged, but he sounded okay from the phone conversations.

They are interrupted by a ringing phone; Gibbs'. It's the director, demanding to know exactly who gave him the authority to shut down a whole airport. He shoots Abby a look, holding the squealing phone out away from his ear. She gives him a fingerwave and he heads up to Shepard's office.

Desk cleared, reports filed, Caff-Pow cup empty and machines put to bed, Abby grabs her coat and heads to her car, savouring the fresh air sweeping over her as she leaves the building. It's a Friday and the night is young. She has big plans.

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Tony sits in the same spot on the couch, flicking between infomercials and the weather channel. He hasn't bothered with the pain pills and he winces as he shifts slightly. The antibiotics he has taken, but only because he's kind of scared of Abby. He hears a lock turn and the door swings open. He doesn't look; he knows it's either Gibbs or Abby. They're not the only two with a key to his apartment, but they are the only ones who would actually use it without knocking.

His bet's on Abby. And not only because she told him she'd try and drop by if she got the tests finished when she rang in the morning, but because he knows it won't be Gibbs. The man hasn't used the key in years, not since the few times he stayed over when Tony was recovering from the pneumonic plague.

Tony doesn't blame him for not coming. Gibbs is probably tired from doing actual police work, not sitting on his ass for the last three days. Even if he's not tired, a skeleton of a boat is a helluva lot more interesting than visiting him, Tony decides. Cases involving children always hit close to home for the bossman. They can't save them all, but they could've saved the little girl this time if not for Tony.

He wouldn't want to visit himself either.

Abby calls his name even though the television is practically beside the door. She kicks off her boots and tumbles over the back of the couch, head popping up to greet him with a smile. He smiles back, hiding the wince from his jostled arm. She digs into her bag, pulling out two tubs of ice-cream and a zombie DVD, ducking into the kitchen for spoons. While she's there she checks his pills, presenting him two on the palm of her hand.

"No ice-cream until you take the meds."

He scowls but takes the pills, crunching them with his molars and looking disgusted at the taste.

"Good." She beams, presenting him with his favourite triple-chocolate chip and slips the disc into the player. She grabs her ice-cream, snuggling into his good side. His body is stiff but he relaxes, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her closer. Her warmth spreads through him.

They stay in that position and watch the movie. Abby is proud when she even gets him to laugh a few times, although she wonders if it is only to humour her. The movie ends and she turns the DVD player off with the remote. The screen flicks back to the normal channels. The late news is on and she freezes as she listens, watching the mouth of the news anchor move as he reports that the killer of eight-year-old Amy White has been apprehended. She feels Tony tense behind her as the blonde, freckled face of the little girl fills the screen. A clip of Amy's mother is next, the young woman crying openly as the reporter discusses the tragedy of the crime.

It's too much for Tony and he pushes Abby off his lap, barely making it to the bathroom before the ice-cream and pills make a reappearance. He retches until there's nothing left and he's empty. Abby stands behind him, rubbing his back and frenetically apologizing for not switching it off sooner. He pulls himself up and reaches for the mouthwash, grimacing at his reflection in the mirror. His skin is pale and clammy and there are dark hollows under his eyes.

"I'm just gonna go to bed Abs," he tells her, running his index finger under her chin as he passes her in the doorway. She nods, apologizing again and he stops, turning back.

"Abby –"

He holds his good arm out. She needs no further invitation, scurrying closer for a hug. He holds her tightly, ignoring the slivers of pain zigzagging up his arm. There are tears lingering in his eyes, not from the injury, and he bites his lip to keep them from falling.

"You want to stay?" He tilts his head toward the king-sized bed and she nods silently, slipping off her skirt and sweater so she's only wearing her panties, knee-socks and undershirt. Tony maneuvers his arm out of the tee-shirt, wearing only long sweatpants. They climb in on opposite sides. Abby nestles into his warmth and scent, rubbing her fingers over his stubbly chin. She could go home, but she'd rather be here. After seeing him, she'd only worry if he was okay.

He's anything but okay, but at least they are together.

TBC


	3. Part Three

On Monday morning he comes back into the office but Gibbs sends him straight down to Ducky. Ducky clucks and tells stories and takes his blood pressure and temperature. He checks the wound and rebandages it, warning Tony against using the arm for anything; no lifting, no carrying, no writing, then tightens the sling to make sure Tony won't. Tony returns reluctantly to the bullpen to begin four long weeks of desk duty.

He sits down at his desk. Gibbs walks over, scrutinizing him and it's the first time he's really spent with Gibbs in a week. Since he was shot.

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_The team stood around the car parked a few houses down from their suspect's, strapping on the protection vests. _

"DiNozzo, McGee take the back. David, you're with me." Gibbs said as they approached. All three nodded, McGee following Tony around to the back of the one-storey house. They heard the crash as Gibbs kicked in the door and Tony followed suit, charging through the back door. He and McGee split up, clearing the back of the house. He heard McGee's 'clear!' from the spare bedroom and headed into the main bedroom. To be met with their suspect, his face identical to the one in the file photo.

"NCIS, freeze!" Tony yelled, gun poised in front of him. The man stopped, then whipped out a pistol from the back of his pants, pointing it straight at Tony.

"Don't think so," he replied, firing several times before Tony could react. Two went wide but one hit Tony's arm, throwing him down onto his back. He climbed up onto his knees but it was too late; the man, still holding the gun, leapt out of the open window, running barefoot down the driveway.

"Tony!" McGee skidded into the room, eyes widening in concern. Gibbs and Ziva quickly followed as they heard the tyres screeching down the road.

"Damn it!" Gibbs yelled in frustration. "You okay DiNozzo?"

"Sure boss." Tony reached for his upper arm, surprised when his hand came back slicked in warm blood. His vision began to waver into darkness and the last thing he heard was Gibbs yelling for paramedics.

Then he woke up, alone, in a hospital bed, head fuzzy with pain meds and a thick white bandage and sling on his right arm. He didn't hear anything from them until the cell phone his nurses had neglected to switch off buzzed and it was McGee, telling him Amy White was dead.  


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"DiNozzo!" A swift slap to the back of the head brings him back to the present. Gibbs is staring at him as if he knows what's running through Tony's mind.

Gibbs puts both hands on the edge of his desk, leaning forward into Tony's face.

"NCIS agents do not shoot first." he says, only loudly enough for Tony to hear. Tony stares back, startled to see compassion, not hatred filling the older man's blue eyes. Then Gibbs leaves, presumably in search of coffee.

After Gibbs' incident with the airport last week, the team is taken off active field duty so they begin the arduous task of perusing the cold case files. With four sets of eyes (well three sets really because Gibbs is 'supervising'), they quickly develop a possible lead. Gibbs sends Ziva and McGee out to investigate, while he has a meeting scheduled with the director to go over the paperwork he has neglected for the past eight months.

Tony takes advantage of the distractions by slipping out of the squad room to visit Abby. She is spinning in circles on her desk chair when he walks in and by the time she stumbles off, dizzy and giggling, she has to lean on him for support. He smiles and takes her by the shoulder, leading her over to a slightly more stationary chair. Once her double/triple/quadruple vision clears and she can walk in a straight line without collapsing, she takes a good look at Tony.

"You look better." She decides, reaching for the Caff-Pow.

He raises an eyebrow. "Thanks. I'm all cleared for some intense desk jockeying."

"No," she shakes her head. "I mean, you look different. More like yourself. Did you talk to Gibbs?"

He nods and she is pleased, then fixes her eyes on him again. She notices the stiffness with which he carries himself, the way he favours his left side (although the latter point is not surprising since he is wearing a sling on his right arm), the teeny lines around his eyes that only she knows to look for.

"You haven't been taking your pills," she says. It isn't a question. He concedes with a sigh and she smiles knowingly, reaching into the top drawer of her desk and handing him a bottle. He reads the fine print on the label.

"These are mine."

"I got another prescription filled. I know you, and so I know that your pills are probably disintegrating in the sewers as we speak."

He can't open the bottle one-handed, not that he minds, but she takes it and shakes two pills into his hand. He glares at her and dry-swallows them.

"They make me sleepy."

She holds out her Caff-Pow in reply, but he shudders, squeezes her hand and leaves.

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That night she meets him in the bullpen. With his right hand out of commission, driving a shift-stick is out of the question. Abby lives closer to Tony than anyone else on the team, so she gives him lifts. They both start early and work late, so it's not an inconvenience for either of them. Stuck on desk duty, the work load is considerably smaller, but Tony has been reduced to typing with one finger, as opposed to his usual two and typing takes twice as long.

He's the last one there and when he sees Abby step out of the elevator, he closes the folder he was reading from, stacking the papers on his desk into some semblance of a pile. Abby grabs his backpack, jangles her car-keys and skips back to the elevator, Tony chasing after her.

They decide on Thai for dinner, and because Tony's place is closest, they both go there. Abby grins as they walk in the door; the apartment is just as messy as it was on Saturday morning when she left. Thankfully the ice-cream cartons, which they forgot to put in the freezer on Friday night, have been thrown out, but apart from that it's as if she never left, teetering stacks of DVDs and dirty magazines (with the odd National Geographic and forensic journal in the mix) scattered across the table. His bedroom is tastefully decorated with odd socks, discarded ties and crumpled shirts swept into the bottom of the closet.

It's not normally like this, for a male Tony is usually pretty tidy. But she'll let it slide, he's had things on his mind. More than just the gunshot wound, although she agrees with him on that, the pain meds and antibiotics do screw with your body. She's encouraged when Tony wrinkles his nose at the mess, throwing open a window to air the place out.

Gibbs talking to Tony has helped more than she had hoped. The silver fox has more influence over his senior field agent than anybody realizes.

They phone in the order for Thai and settle down to watch a game show. It's become an increasingly frequent hobby of theirs, a battle of the wits and sexes at least once a week when work allows. Tony's limitless supply of movie trivia versus Abby's science background. She may have more degrees, but she knows better than to underestimate her opponent. Gibbs would be proud.

Sure enough, scores are tied by the final round. It comes down to the bonus question. Winner takes all. Loser pays for dinner. And… it's a movie question. Of course. Abby pouts while Tony answers it instantly, leaning back on the couch to revel in his success. As if on cue, the doorbell rings and she punches him on his good arm, reaching for her purse.

Carrying the plastic bag of goodies back to the couch, she leans into her friend, grinning when he shifts across so she can snuggle into him. His GS wound will heal, she knows, and so will he with time. The scars will fade both physically and mentally, although they will never disappear. This event will linger in his memory, next to Kate and Jeffery White and Chris Pacci and Paula Cassidy and Jeanne Benoit and his father and everything and everyone else that has caused Tony pain throughout his life.

They are his crosses to bear, but no matter how hard he tries to push her away, she will never leave him to deal with them by himself. And he does the same for her.

Teamwork. Progress. Friendship. Love.

Whatever.

That's how it works. That's how they work.

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**Fin.**

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Thanks for the reviews. Happy New Year! 


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